Page 12 of Justice for Samara

He smiled. “Okay, so that’s where I’m going.” He pulled up in front of a building that had what looked like a grain silo attached to it. The sign out front had two different names on it.

“Which one are we going to?”

“CoachHouse. The other one is Harley’sBarbecue. It’s great too.” She hoped he wasn’t upset that she didn’t wait for him to open her door, but she got out anyway. He was waiting for her at the front of the SUV when she rounded it and they walked in together.

“Hi, Michael! How ya doin’?” the young woman working as hostess asked.

“Good. You doing okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Mamaw’s in the nursing home now, so that’s kinda bad, but she’s okay. Just two?” she asked and eyed Samara.

“Yeah. Oh, Lindsey, this is DeputyFutrell. She’s new at the department.”

“Hi! Nice to meet you! They’re finally gettin’ a lady cop. ’Bout time! Everybody thinks we’re in the Dark Ages around here, but we’re really not.”

“I see that,” Samara responded, trying hard not to sound patronizing. Compared to a lot of places around there, it was indeed pretty backward, but everyone had been friendly and welcoming, at least to her face.

The food smelled delicious, but she really wanted to order and then get down to asking questions. They’d chatted in the SUV while he drove, but she was waiting for the right time to start with the things she really wanted to know. As soon as they ordered, he turned to her solemnly. “I’m guessing there’s a lot you’d like to ask me.”

“Damn. A mind reader. I’m in trouble,” she said with a laugh.

“No mind reader. It’s just that if I were you, I’d be asking some questions too.”

“Okay, well, first off, what’s with Gray? The door in the hallway says chief deputy, but I thought you were?”

“I am. He’s leaving. Getting married and moving to LittleRock.”

“Husband?”

Michael reared back and stared at her. “Yeah! How did you know?”

“My brother’s gay. My gaydar works extremely well.”

A smirk replaced his smile. “Ah. Hope you don’t get that vibe from me.”

“Nope. So, wife and kids. How many? Of both,” Samara asked with a grin.

“Zero and zero.”

That couldn’t be right. “You’re not married? Divorced?”

“Nope.”

That seemed strange, especially if he wasn’t gay. “Never?”

“No.” Michael slumped back in his chair and sighed. “Might as well get this out of the way. I’m the butt of jokes from the other deputies. I live with my mother.”

“How old are you?”

He rolled his eyes. “How did I know that was going to be the next question? I’m almost twenty-seven.”

Good lord, the guy lived with his mother? She wasn’t going to make a joke, but she had to admit to herself that it struck her as odd. “Do you have any intentions of moving out?”

“I have a house.”

“Why aren’t you living there?”

“Two reasons. Not so long ago, my dad and a couple of other county officials were killed in a plane crash in Land Between the Lakes.”